Don't Wear Me Out
by halfadozentimes
Summary: "Are you telling me to stop? Do you really want cake that badly?" "No…just don't wear me out too much." Monroe brings home cake for Nick and himself, but they don't end up eating it as planned. This is just a short little Nick/Monroe fluff.


**Although I wish I did, I don't own these characters. This is the first time I've ever written fanfiction, so I hope you guys like it and let me know what you think.**

Nick Burkhardt stood at his kitchen counter, slowly eating leftover takeout from the night before as he looked through an old newspaper that he had found lying on the end table by the couch. It was hardly even eight PM and he had already changed out of his new jeans and plain shirt to slip into a pair of sweatpants and one of Monroe's old shirts for the night. The shirt was worn out from years of good use and it was easily a size too big on Nick's thin form, but it was comfortable and it smelled so distinctly of home and Monroe that he ended up wearing it a lot.

Just as he was beginning to get bored with the outdated articles in the newspaper, Nick couldn't help but smile at the sound of the front door pushing open in the main room. Nick folded up the newspaper and turned around to place it on the island in the center of the kitchen, Monroe walking into the kitchen at that moment with two paper grocery bags in his arms.

"Nick, if you had waited another half hour I could have made a decent dinner for you." Monroe took one look at Nick's refrigerated leftovers from his quick dinner with Hank the night before with a sigh.

"It's good to see you too." Nick took the last bite of his dinner with a smile before tossing the styrofoam container into the trash.

"Alright, I'm sorry for being concerned about the way that my other half is eating," Monroe apologized, placing a light kiss on Nick's forehead before moving to take care of the groceries. "So how was work?"

"It was good, actually. Hank and I only had one case today, and I think it was all people this time, nothing wesen related so far." Nick smiled at the thought of being assigned a regular case for once, helping Monroe by taking care of the groceries that belonged in the refrigerator.

"Well that's something I haven't heard in awhile. Hey, isn't that my shirt?" Monroe raised an eyebrow, noticing Nick's too-long sleeves for the first time.

"What can I say? You weren't home and it smells like you." Nick tried to keep the smirk off of his face as he gave his sorry explanation.

"Yeah, nice try. All of yours are dirty, aren't they?"

"Hey, I'm a cop! I don't have all the free time in the world to do laundry. Why bother anyway when I can just wear your shirts?" Nick leaned his head onto Monroe's shoulder, letting his breath ghost over the skin of the other's throat.

"Because," Monroe started, gently pushing Nick away from him, "That's one of my favorite shirts. I was planning on wearing it tonight, so you're handing it over at bed time."

"Well somebody's grumpy tonight." Nick let off of Monroe, turning his attention back to the groceries.

"Oh, not really. It's just an easy way to get you shirtless in bed", Monroe smirked, not giving Nick a chance to respond before pulling a plastic container out of one of the grocery bags. "So…I bought cake. Which I don't normally eat, but you like it so, why not?"

"Ooh, what kind of cake?"

"Lemon poppy seed. You like that, right?"

"Of course I do, it's cake." Nick emptied the bags of their last few groceries before grabbing two forks from one of the many kitchen drawers.

"Not so fast. I don't share cake with people who steal my clothes."

"Well," Nick started, locking his arms low around Monroe's waist, "Why don't we take it to bed with us and I can give you back your shirt there?"

Monroe's eyes lit up at that suggestion as he turned on his heels and led Nick up the stairs to the bedroom that they shared, the cake still placed tightly in his grip. Their bedroom was of a decent size, big enough for them to move around and enjoy it, but not so big that they didn't know what to fill the space with. It only took Monroe a short moment to make it to the top of the stairs and push through the partially closed door of their bedroom with Nick right behind him. They pulled back the covers and settled themselves on the sheets that were cool from the air conditioning.

"Alright, now give me my shirt back." Monroe moved the cake to his side so that Nick couldn't reach it until he handed over the worn piece of fabric.

Nick rolled his eyes playfully before grabbing onto the frayed bottom of the shirt, slowly pulling it off over his head. Monroe leaned forward and pressed his lips to Nick's chest the moment that he was free of the shirt, sucking on an old scar that he had gotten while on a case as it turned red from the blood rushing up to it, which earned a moan from Nick.

"Monroe…the cake," Nick tried to say, his hand flying to the back of Monroe's head as he twisted his fingers into the other's hair.

"It can wait." Monroe used his foot to push the cake to the end of the bed, as he gently pushed Nick onto his back.

Monroe looked into Nick's light blue eyes for a moment, memorizing the exact placement of every last patch of gray before turning his attention back to the small brown scar, feeling Nick's blood pump under the patch of skin around it that had turned red. He gently stroked the pad of his thumb across the scar, thinking back on the day when Nick had come home with the wound.

"_Nick, why did you even come home? We have to get you to the hospital, you probably need stitches."_

"_I _can't _go to the hospital, what am I supposed to say? I can't tell anybody that I got attacked by something that belongs in a fairy tale."_

"_Alright, then what are you going to do? I don't suppose you'd sleep very well with a hole in your chest."_

"_We've got to know somebody that could stitch it up, right?"_

"_Well," Monroe paused, shifting his weight on his feet, "Rosalee might be able to help."_

"_You know what? No, never mind. We'll figure something out," Nick said under his breath, turning away from Monroe. _

"_What do you mean we'll figure something out? Nick, your chest is ripped open and Rosalee might be able to stitch you up if you really don't want to go to the hospital."_

"_It'll heal!" Nick snapped, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that was starting to overcome his entire torso._

"_Nick, tell me what your problem is, right now." The tone of Monroe's voice made it clear that he was done messing around, as he gripped Nick's shoulder and turned him back around to face him._

"_Why do you spend so much time with Rosalee? Why do you talk about her so much, why does she play such a big role in the research that we used to spend hours doing together, on our own? And how come a lot of the time, when I come home from work, you're alone with her at the shop?" _

"_Nick…you don't honestly think-"_

"_Well what am I supposed to think when my boyfriend spends more time with a great, single, attractive woman than he does with me?"_

"_It isn't like that with us. Rosalee and I are friends, you know that, the same way that you're friends with her. I hadn't realized that I talk about her that much, so my apologies there. And I'm sorry for being at the shop when you get home, I'm just trying to help her out. Rosalee is a good friend, but that's it. You know I love you and that no one could take your place, you've got to know that." Monroe had moved closer to Nick, his hands resting on the other's hips._

"_I'm sorry." Nick's voice was barely over a whisper, ashamed, even, as he stared at his shoes. _

"_It's fine. Now please, let me take you to Rosalee so that she can stitch you up?" _

"I do have work in the morning you know." The reminder pulled Monroe out of his thoughts and back to the present time, Nick still splayed out underneath him. He hadn't noticed that he was doing it, but his fingertips were resting just inside the waistband of Nick's sweatpants, slowly tracing small circles onto his skin.

"Are you telling me to stop? Do you really want cake that badly?"

"No…just don't wear me out too much."


End file.
